Marionette
by Sedaytion
Summary: Gaignun couldn't help but buy that mystic doll in the window, her beauty the strongest thing he had seen. But when he learned the doll was not just an ordinary doll, what will happen to him? What part of his past was she?


_**Marionette**_

**|.| Marionette |.|**

The French word for a puppet.

**|.| I Can't Take My Eyes Away |.|**

Gaignun couldn't help but buy that mystic doll in the window, her beauty the strongest thing he had seen. But when he learned the doll was not just an ordinary doll, what will happen to him? What part of his past was she and will everything ever be the norm again? Possibly not.

**|.| Rating |.|**

Teen but I'm being serious here – if dolls coming to life in the middle of the night freak you out then please don't flame me for it. You've had a warning, this is a romantic horror story that I'm trying to make as frightening and strange as possible. I do hope you enjoy and if you ever want any images of this beautiful doll then please message me.

The colour of the hair was identical to his own, a shade of raven black, a colour used as a shadow, as something dark and morbid yet it's beautiful and clean at the same time; reflecting shades of ice white. It was as smooth as hair could be, feeling almost like silk to his delicate fingers as he ran down through the locks slowly, being careful not to wreck the wondrous hairstyle been given to her. The bangs were cut in a perfect horizontal line, just above the jet black eyebrows that were as thin as pencil lines and shaped in a womanly fashion. Not one hair was out of place by the faultless cut that had to have taken ages to do. Unlike the rest of the hair, the bangs were perfectly straight while the rest had a slight wave to it. Parts of the hair were loose around her face, spiralling in abstract ways, looking like ribbon. The hair had been parted in the centre of the head and pulled loosely foreword into two side pony tails. As the hair got longer the waves quickly turned into fashionable, thick curls that were as soft as the rest of the hair. The shade of hair contrasted amazingly with the skin colour that was as pale as a sheet – a shade of pure white. The cheeks had been painted with a light rose colour to give a cute look to the face that was perfect in every way – not a blemish or a mark to be seen. The lips were thin and shaped beautifully; coloured a deep red that shinned like pure lip gloss, an attraction to any man that laid their eyes upon them. And finally, what attracted the raven headed man the most were the eyes that were coloured a mystic shade of grey. They looked as if they were shinning and most likely made of glass; glistening in the light of the shop. They were framed by 3D, possibly real, thick black eyelashes that looked like they could flutter at any given moment. The pure expression of playful peace mixed with a childish curiosity was on the dolls face, her hand having been pulled up with her elbow set on the Victorian red arm of the chair. Her fingers were lightly touching the flowing hair around her face; her gaze set upon the man that stared down at her. She would have been no bigger then 30 inches, her thin figure clothed in the most simple of outfits as all the expensive, Victorian dolls came. All she wore was what looked to be a night gown made of silk, yet a few metres from her was a wardrobe for all the dolls in the store for the purchaser to buy.

He had no idea how long he has let his eyes stay down at the mysterious doll but when a warm hand patted his shoulder he immediately turned his head, snapping out of whatever daze he and the doll had shared for those long moments. The startled eyes met with a pair of deep blue ones, belonging to the old man who owned the shop filled with the dolls. His face creased as he pushed the corners of his lip into a smile for the Master in front of him whose startled look had drifted from his own face. "Ah, Master Gaignun, will you be purchasing this doll? You've been here a number of times beforehand. My advice would be to grab her now while you still have the chance."

The Master couldn't care for the price of the doll as he lifted her light frame from her seated position. As he brought her into his delicate hands he could smell a scent of lavender coming from her with a mixture of stale dust that he could easily get rid of. As he placed her on the counter he made sure to respect her, putting her neatly down. When he was offered to have her boxed he refused immediately, not sure why he had done as such. As the man of the shop was calculating her price, the Master drifted off into his own thoughts, moving to the wardrobe part of the store. It didn't take him long to finally pick out an outfit for the girl waiting patiently for his arrival. It took even less time for him to pay for her solemnly and carry her gently back to work after having skipped his lunch break going to look for her. He had seen her twice before the third encounter when he purchased her. She was sat in the window when he witnessed her; the perfect skin reflecting the suns rays in the most beautiful way. Each time her eyes had been set on his and he found himself stopping, stopping to just stare at the doll. The third time she was not in the window and feeling his heart begin to pound he entered the store to find out whether she had been purchased. More dolls were inside – children, grown men, grown woman, dogs and even cats and a few doll houses were there, all in the old Victorian style that wasn't common at all. There were dolls with blonde hair and blue eyes most people would buy but he paid no attention to them. Instead, dry mouthed, he found the doll he had seen those times and brought her.

When he brought her to the office and his brother arrived to poke and ponder about why he had gone out without a word he was badgered mercilessly about the doll. He was stating how he had no lover to give the doll to, how strange he was becoming for buying a doll rather then getting with a woman. The redheaded boy shone his concern for his younger brother brighter then a light and like a light being turned on in the morning, it was rudely unwelcome. All Master could do was sigh, lean his head on his hand and listen to his older brother say how much he thought he should get out and find someone to be with; or at least have a one night stand with Mary or Shelly who Master Gaignun was no where near interested in. He couldn't help but think his brother was enjoying a bit of teasing, mocking how even though he was twenty years of age he hadn't been in a serious relationship nor had he even kissed a girl. Those weren't part of Master Gaignun's mind. He didn't work that way, he didn't want to be with anyone. It was like he was waiting, waiting for someone and of course, the red head was worried. He was with someone; that red head. Rubedo was with a woman called Aiselne, who Gaignun agreed was beautiful, was funny and was loyal and a great companion for Rubedo but no, Master Gaignun didn't want that. He wanted his doll. Eventually, after hours of talking and gaining little replies, Rubedo finally sighed and asked something he knew Master Gaignun would answer.

"What's the doll called?"

There wasn't even a pause before the word rolled off his sweet lips. "Marionette. Her name is Marionette."

That night, as Master slept in his soft, warm bed with Marionette lying on the pillow beside his he had the most peculiar of dreams. Earlier in the day he had dressed Marionette in her fine, black Gothic Victorian dress that had a frilled collar going halfway up her neck. He placed white stockings on her legs along with small, open shoes that were a shade of black. She looked so fragile, so beautiful in her cloths he couldn't help but admire her for a few more minutes. In his dreams, there she was – wearing the exact same outfit. The images were blurred of her moving, her arms bending in fluid motions. Her eyes would not blink and her lips were firmly sealed shut but she was moving within a cloud of darkness, familiar sounds going against his ears. He could hear child-like laughter that he was certain belonged to both Rubedo and Albedo. He could smell the distinct scent of the flowers in the courtyard at the Institute he grew up in, the scent getting stronger and stronger as Marionette continued to pace around the darkness.

That was when she turned to him. Just as the smell of flowers was beginning to take its toll, almost causing him to feel nauseous, she set her eyes up his sharply. Her brows that were painted on were still how they would be – she was unable to move them. But her eyes showed distinct pain mixed with confusion and fear. His heart sank, his feet tried to move to her to comfort her, to stop her from looking so pained but they could not move. Lowering his eyes, he could see what looked like shadows in the shape of roots tangled around his ankles, his feet; stopping him from doing anything. The trousers he wore weren't right. In confusion he put his arms out in front of himself, noticing he was wearing his uniform once again. A sickening feeling overcame him as he squirmed on the spot, seeing in the corner of his childish eyes Marionette looking pitiful at him. From her expression he could tell she could do nothing for him but stand. In return he could do nothing for her but stand.

"_Remember me …"_ unlike a voice that echoed around his ears and drifted within his mind, the words were embedded into his head. The played from inside; the voice familiar and female. Just as he parted his lips to speak some more, he suddenly found himself lying in his bed, back in his bedroom on the Foundation.

A cold sweat had appeared on the Master's forehead as he tried to cease his panting from the vivid dream, blinking through the darkness. As he stared around for Marionette, he finally found her. Sat at the window. Wearing her usual expression as she looked outside. Wasn't she just a doll?

And that was the start of the nightmares.


End file.
